Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Year of our Lord 1300 A.D.

Month of May

Norwich Castle

“M other, I have looked everywhere,” a knight in heavy armor said breathlessly, seriously. “You know that when we find him, he will not come quietly. He is in here, somewhere, hiding. And he is heavily armed. It is going to be a battle ’til the death when we finally locate him.”

An older woman, still quite beautiful at her age, stood at the base of the stairs in the keep of Norwich. She was dressed quite well, wrapped in lovely black shawl, gazing up at the knight midway down the spiral staircase that ran from the third and top floor of Norwich’s big keep.

“He is here, somewhere.” Lady Devereux Allington de Winter wasn’t apt to take any foolishness from any of her five children, and most especially not from one of her eldest sons. Her eyes narrowed at the man’s twin brother, standing on the stairs. “Find him, Devon. Find him before I do or I swear there will be blood spilled on these walls this night. I did not nearly die giving birth to him only to have him shame me at this crucial moment.”

Devon de Winter, the younger twin by nine minutes, sighed heavily. “Mother, you cannot….”

Devereux cut him off. “ Find him.”

Devon, frustrated, threw up the hand that wasn’t holding a broadsword. “And then what?” he demanded, although not too forcefully. Being forceful or rude to his mother never seemed to work out well for him in the end. “He will try to kill me. Is that what you want? One son killing another?”

Devereux’s eyes narrowed. “He will not try to kill you,” she said, her voice hard. “He has a duty to perform, Devon, and you know as well as I do that he’s expected to perform that duty in a little over an hour. There are already people congregating at the cathedral in preparation for this marriage and if Drake thinks he is going to fight his way out of a contract his father and I brokered, then he is sadly mistaken and grossly delusional.”

Devon held up the same empty hand to quiet his mother’s rage; he’d heard the argument before, many times, and he knew her speech by heart. “Mother,” he said, trying not to sound upset or impatient. “You very well may have to accept the fact that one of your four sons does not wish to wed. It is not a crime to not want to marry. You have pushed Drake almost to the breaking point with your constant harassment.”

Devereux’s eyes narrowed further with displeasure, looking quite similar to her long-dead mother-in-law in that gesture. The Lady Katharine de Winter was another strong woman that had once forced her eldest son, Davyss, into a marriage. Now, almost thirty years later, it seemed that a matriarchal de Winter was once again in the position of forcing a son into an unwanted marriage.

“Drake is the first-born son of the family,” Devereux said. “Like it or not, he was born nine minutes before you were and he has certain obligations. All of his father’s titles and properties will pass to him and through him they must go to his son. He has an obligation to all of us to wed and provide children to carry on the family name and I am finished being patient with him. Why must I explain this to you? You already know this.”

Devon did indeed know it. He agreed with his mother but he also was very protective of his brother, which put him in a bad position. Torn feelings gave way to frustration.

“Aye, I know it,” he said, slapping his mailed thigh in resignation. “Drake knows it, too. He is only twenty-eight years of age. He is still young. Why must you force him to marry before he is ready?”

“Are you going to go up into the upper floors again and look for him or must I do it?”

Now Devon was just plain irritated at his mother’s unbending stance. “You go.”

Devereux didn’t hesitate. She moved to push past him, up the stairs, and reached out to snatch his sword. “Give me your weapon.”

Devon pulled away from her, including his weapon. “Nay,” he said flatly. “I will not be responsible if you gore Drake in a fit of anger. Go find your own weapon.”

Devereux pointed at the sword in his hand, now several feet away. “I paid for that weapon,” she said. “Give it to me.”

Devon continued to move away from her as she pointed. Now, he was verging on laughing at her because it was all so utterly ridiculous. But he knew, ridiculous or not, she would take that weapon, quite happily, and go after his brother with it. He’d seen such things before because his mother was, if nothing else, determined and fearless. Those were traits that both impressed and terrorized the family.

“You did not pay for this,” he told her. “I did. And you cannot have it.”

Devereux was greatly displeased with her disobedient son. “Your father shall hear of this,” she said. “He will cut you off. He will strip you of everything. You will be a penniless wretch left to wander the filthy streets and beg for your food.”

Devon had to cover his mouth lest she see his grin. He knew she wasn’t entirely serious because she was being overly dramatic, but still, it wasn’t good to work the woman into a froth. She could be quite formidable, even against her grown sons.

“Fine,” he said, moderately sassy because foolishness was in the air. “But know that I will not beg. I will steal food, destroy homes, and piss in the middle of the church so that everyone can see what a terrible son you have raised. The blame will fall on you and you will be branded a horrible mother.”

Now it was Devereux’s turn to fight off a grin. “You vile creature,” she hissed. “I should have sold you to the gypsies when you were a child. I had the opportunity once and I let it slip away. I was a fool.”

Devon burst out in soft laughter, watching his mother reluctantly grin. He went to her, still keeping the sword out of her reach as he hugged her with one arm and kissed her forehead. “I love you very much, Mother,” he said. “I am glad you did not sell me to the gypsies. But I truly believe you should not force Drake into doing something he desperately does not wish to do.”

Wrapped up in one big arm, Devereux gently pushed Devon away. “I understand your concern,” she said. “But I am afraid he has no choice; Baron Rothwell is expecting him to wed his daughter, whom he has brought to the cathedral on this very day. Lady Gabriella Summerlin is a lovely girl and will make a very fine wife. Moreover, if Drake does not marry the lady, we will have the lords of Rothwell down upon us. They own half of Lincolnshire. This will be an excellent marriage, Devon. Drake must understand that.”

Devon sighed heavily. “But he does not want to be married.”

“It is no longer his choice.”

Devon knew that, especially since there was a contract involved. The lords of Rothwell were a powerful bunch and if Drake didn’t marry the woman he’d been contracted to marry, it would go very bad for the Earldom of Thetford. Devon’s father, Davyss de Winter, was the Earl of Thetford and was a very powerful man with tremendous connections to the crown. This would be an advantageous marriage all around. But only if they could get Drake to the cathedral.

“Very well,” Devon said, sounding resigned and unhappy. “I will look for him again. Where is everyone else? Where are Papa and Denys and Dallan?”

He was asking about his father and remaining brothers, all on the hunt for Drake. Satisfied her resistant son was finally seeing reason eased Devereux’s stance somewhat. “The last I saw, they were combing the hall and stables,” she said. “Your father said something about going into the storeroom. Go back upstairs and see if you can locate him. Go quickly; time is growing short.”

Without another word, Devon turned and headed back up the stairs. But he held his sword up in front of him, In spite of his mother’s reassurances that Drake would not try to kill him, he wasn’t so sure.

Better to be safe than sorry.

*

Davyss felt like an idiot.

Well, not so much an idiot as a man being forced by his wife to do something he very much did not want to do. Well did he remember being forced into marriage by his own mother and it had been a humiliating experience. But the marriage had turned out to be a loving one and he adored his wife more than words could express. But he still remembered that shameful situation when his very powerful mother had forced him into the union, and he well remembered how much he had resisted. Now, oddly enough, he found himself doing the same thing to his own son.

Davyss was dressed in battle armor as he looked for his eldest son because he knew, as the rest of the family knew, that Drake would not be taken easily. Drake was intelligent and powerful and, Davyss thought, a much better knight than he ever was, although that wasn’t exactly true. Davyss had been legendary in his younger years, wielding the ancient sword of his forefathers. The weapon was called Lespada and it was something Drake now carried as the eldest de Winter son. Therefore, that made him more formidable. The men who wielded Lespada were not men to be taken lightly.

Down in the storage vaults of Norwich’s mighty keep, it smelled like dirt and cold-stored grain. It was a scent that made Davyss’ nose itch. The dirt floor was uneven in the dim light, lending to the sense of apprehension as Davyss walked along, slowly, sometimes off-balance due to the angle of the floor. But he kept going, his dark eyes alert to any movement in the depths. He was fairly certain Drake, if down here, wouldn’t harm him, but he wouldn’t put it past his son to ambush him, tie him up, and run. He wanted to avoid that if at all possible.

“Drake?” he called out quietly. “If you can hear me, I beg you to reconsider before making any attempt against me. Your mother has sent me but I only wish to speak with you, lad. Do not be foolish and disable the only parent who is allied with you in this matter.”

He was met with silence. Feeling somewhat frustrated, perhaps even desperate, Davyss took a few more steps into the dimness, timidly scanning the darkened recesses as he tried again.

“Drake?” he called out, louder this time. “Please show yourself. I only wish to speak with you, I swear it. I could just as easily bring your mother down here to look for you but I do not think you want that.”

It was a threat that worked to his advantage. A figure suddenly appeared in the darkness before him, several feet away. Davyss could see the outline of a very tall and very big man, a man with a sword in his hand. Davyss could see the sword quite clearly because he recognized it. It had belonged to him, once. He came to a halt, his eyes fixed on the figure in the distance.

“Drake?” he asked softly.

The figure took a couple of steps, coming forward into the light. As Drake de Winter finally came into view, he faced his father with barrels of grain and other stores between them. There was a brief pause as the men faced each other, sizing one another up; at four inches over six feet, Drake was a big man, taller than his father, with very broad shoulders and enormous hands. He had the de Winter dark hair, dark eyes, and granite-square jaw, but his features looked a good deal like his mother’s. His face had the shape of her eyes and nose, straight and true, and when he smiled, it was very much shaped liked Devereux’s smile. He also had her stubborn determination, something that had never been more evident before now. Davyss could see all of that powerful resistance rolled up into the man’s expression and he braced himself.

“Father,” Drake greeted steadily. “I see you come fully armed to speak with me.”

Davyss lifted his dark eyebrows. “And I see you come fully armed to respond.”

“An odd conversation this shall be. Shall we use swords instead of words?”

“That would not be my first choice.”

“Nor mine.”

Davyss sighed heavily, seeing how defensive his son was. He tried to ease the situation. “May we discuss this calmly before you try and cut my legs off so that I cannot run after you?”

Drake smirked, without humor. “I do not need to cut your legs off,” he said. “You could not keep up with me should I decide to run.”

That was true but Drake meant it as an insult. Davyss grunted both his displeasure and agreement. “Lad, I have a great problem I wish to discuss with you for I need your counsel,” he said. “Will you calmly hear me?”

“I will always calmly hear you.”

Davyss sighed again, this time more deeply. Weary, both physically and mentally, he planted himself on the nearest storage barrel that could support his weight. He sheathed his sword as he sat, bracing his hands against his knees and looking up at his tall, stubborn son. He was fairly certain that Drake knew what he was about to say so he immediately delved into the issue.

“Let us say, for example, that there is a man,” he began. “A wealthy man of status. He has a wonderful wife and five children, including four sons, but his greatest pride has always been in his eldest son. He is a knight beyond compare and great things are expected of him. Now, the man’s wife has been determined to marry off all of their children to give them security and happiness. That is truly all she wishes for them. However, the man’s eldest son, whom great things are hoped for, is extremely reluctant to wed for unknown reasons. He simply refuses and cannot provide a valid explanation for that refusal. Now, if you were in this man’s position, Drake, what would you say to the son?”

Drake pursed his lips, mildly irritated, and sheathed Lespada . The gorgeous, bejeweled sword was tucked back neatly into his scabbard. Drake then folded his big arms across his chest in a relatively defensive gesture.

“I would not force him to wed,” he said flatly.

Davyss’ dark eyes were intense. “Why not?”

“Because it is his life and he must live it how he sees fit,” Drake said somewhat passionately. “Mayhap he prefers swords and shields instead of women and marriage. Many men do, you know.”

“But does he not have an obligation to his family?”

Drake frowned. “What about his obligation to himself?” he fired back softly. “Does he not have the right to be happy or must he put his family before himself?”

Davyss could see that his argument was going nowhere. He tried another tactic. “Why do you not want to get married, Drake?” he asked softly. “Is there some specific reason? A lover, mayhap, that we do not know of? God’s Bones, boy, it had better not be a lover. Your mother will have your hide.”

Drake fought off a grin in spite of himself. “Why?”

Davyss threw up his hands. “Because if she is your lover, presumably you have bedded the woman,” he said. “Trust me when I say that bedding a woman you are not married to can cause… complications.”

“Bastards.”

“I prefer to call them complications.”

Drake stifled a chuckle. “You mean like the two half-sisters you provided to me and my siblings?”

Davyss simply nodded, averting his gaze. “It was a long time ago,” he said, “long before I met your mother. She accepted those women as my children nearly the moment she found out about them. The point is that it was a shameful thing to do to her. I do not want you facing the same shame should you ever find a woman to love.”

It was a moment for the great Davyss de Winter to confess a personal weakness and some of the tension left the conversation as the defensiveness drained away. Drake could see his father’s side of it, truly, but he was still disinclined to agree with him. Feeling rather sorry for his father, which he suspected was his father’s intention all along, he moved towards the man.

“Father,” he said quietly, crouching down in front of the man and putting his hand on the man’s knee. “Why is it so hard for you and Mother to understand that I simply do not wish to be married to a woman I do not even know? I have so much I want to do in life and so much I want to see, and a wife does not fit into those plans. When I marry, it will be because I want to marry her. Because I am fond of her. You and Mother love one another and I wish for that kind of marriage as well. Why can you not understand that?”

Davyss looked at his boy. “I do understand that,” he said softly. “But you must remember that your mother and I did not want to be married, either. Your grandmother forced the marriage and it was utterly miserable for the first few weeks. More miserable than you can imagine. The love between us had to grow and thank God that it did. What I am trying to say is that you, too, can find love with the woman you marry but you will never know unless you marry her.”

He had a point but Drake wasn’t willing to concede, on any level. His frustration began to grow because he felt like his argument was losing ground.

“Then I would rather not know,” he said, turning away. “Father, if you make me do this, I will be more miserable than you can imagine. I will make my wife miserable. I do not even know the girl and already I feel pity for her, having to marry a man that wants nothing to do with her. Moreover, you brought me home under false pretenses. You told me that Mother was ill and begged me to return and when I did, I find myself a betrothed man and a marriage awaiting me. It was unfair and you know it.”

Davyss shrugged. “In my defense, your mother was ill,” he said. “She has a condition of the belly that sometimes renders her immobile for days, even weeks. She was very ill at the time I sent you the missive. But she is better now.”

“You used her illness to coerce me into coming home.”

Davyss stood up. He wasn’t going to let his son make him feel guilty for doing what he felt he had to do. “You are correct,” he said, giving his son a glimmer of that legendary de Winter stubbornness. “The marriage was already arranged and I had to get you home. Would you have come had I told you the truth? Of course you would not. Drake, I have been listening to your mother worry over you for the past ten years, wondering if you were going to find happiness, worrying over just the right match for you. My mother did it to me and now your mother is doing it to you. If you walk away from this marriage, then I cannot guarantee what your relationship with your mother will be like after this. She has never asked much from you but she does ask for this. Why can you not make the woman happy?”

So he was throwing Devereux into the equation now, playing on Drake’s sense of guilt and obligation towards his mother. It was true that the woman was pushing the marriage upon him, but that aside, she had been the most understanding and compassionate woman Drake had ever had the fortune to know. He loved his mother deeply and her wisdom in all matters was unparalleled. Drake respected it greatly. But the fact of the matter was that Drake was more concerned with his own wants now than his mother’s at the moment.

“I do not want to ruin my relationship with my mother,” he said sincerely, “but as I live and breathe, I also know that if I do consent to this marriage, I will be the most miserable man in Norfolk. I also know that I will quite possibly come to resent my mother for forcing me into marriage and that will ruin our relationship as well. There will be no winner in this battle of wills, Papa. Either mother will resent me for not obeying her wishes or I will resent her for having been forced to obey them. Either way, there will be strain between us.”

Davyss could see that. He’d been thinking that all along, in fact. Moving to Drake, he put a big hand on his son’s shoulder. “Then what will you do?” he asked as if he had no more options to give. “What can you do?”

Drake shrugged. “I do not know, to be truthful,” he said. “I have been agonizing over this for days. I cannot do this, Papa. I cannot be tied to a woman I do not know. There is so much in this world that I’ve not yet done or experienced. A wife will only hinder that.”

“A wife may be the greatest experience yet.”

Drake struggled with his frustration. “Mayhap,” he said. “But I want that to be my decision. Right now, my liege is heading to Scotland with Edward and I am not there. Do you know how upsetting that is? Edward has convened a massive army to take back lands against the latest Scottish revolt and has called in dozens of barons for the task, but I am here because my mother wishes me to wed. Of course I am unhappy about this. I am damned unhappy. I am a knight who has been pulled away from his duties because of my mother’s foolish wishes.”

Davyss held up a finger of caution. “You will not call your mother’s wishes foolish,” he said sternly. “Her wishes are never foolish. Her desire to see you wed and established is genuine. But I understand that your mind and heart are elsewhere. I understand that completely.”

Drake was frowning at his father. “Then if you understand it, you understand why I do not want to be here,” he said. “It is more than simply not wanting to wed a woman I have never met. It is the fact that I am not being allowed to do what I was born to do. I am a de Winter and a de Winter belongs in battle.”

Davyss scratched his head and turned away, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation. He was in a difficult spot, wanting to please both his wife and his son who were on completely opposite sides of the issue. He understood Drake’s point of view but he also understood his wife’s; scratching and scratching his scalp, he paced across the uneven floor, trying to formulate a plan to please them both. It wasn’t an easy task.

“Allow me to make a proposal,” he finally said. “You want to be with Edward right now and I cannot disagree. Your mother wants you wed right now and I dare not disagree. But… if we tell your mother that we must postpone the marriage because duty calls you away, that might be enough to ease her, at least for the time being. I will have to speak with Summerlin about it and convince the man to see my side of it, but it can be done. Mayhap… mayhap if we simply postpone the marriage with the promise that it will take place at some later time when your duties with Edward are finished, it will be enough to ease both your mother and Lord Summerlin. Would you be willing to agree to that at least?”

Drake was interested, that much was clear. But he was also suspicious. “Postpone it how long?”

Davyss shrugged. “Enough for you to get this wanderlust out of your heart,” he said. “A year? Two? Three? Who is to say? We cannot postpone it forever but mayhap if we postpone it long enough, Summerlin will grow tired of waiting and marry his daughter off to someone else. Would that be agreeable?”

Drake knew he would never get a better offer, at least at this point. He had no choice but to agree. “It would,” he said. “Will you tell Mother?”

Davyss nodded. “I will,” he said. “Meanwhile, you make your way to the stables and get out of here. If you do not leave, we run the risk of your mother refusing to allow you to go, so you must simply leave as quickly as you can. I will keep the hounds off your trail for as long as I can.”

Thrilled and relieved, Drake grabbed his father’s head and kissed the man on the cheek. “Bless you, Papa,” he said sincerely. “I love you very much.”

Davyss grunted. “You love me very much when I risk my very life on your behalf,” he said. “It is not Summerlin I fear but your mother.”

Drake grinned. “I know,” he said. “I am sorry I will not be able to bid her farewell. You will tell her for me, won’t you? Tell her I love her and will return when I can.”

Davyss cocked an eyebrow. “ When being the operative word,” he said. “This bargain between us is predicated on the fact that you will, at all costs, send me word on your status when this business in Scotland is finished. I will be kept apprised of what is happening and when you plan on returning home. If you do not do this, Drake, I will ride to Scotland myself and find you. It will not be a pleasant meeting.”

Drake nodded, knowing his father meant what he said. Drake took great pride in his honor and integrity, so he was not hard-pressed to agree to his father’s terms.

“You know I will keep you informed, Papa,” he said quietly. “I swear that I will. But I will not swear upon or agree to a timeline for my return to Norwich. It may be a year or it may be five.”

“Five is too long.”

Drake held up a finger. “I am agreeing to a betrothal I do not want,” he pointed out. “You will have to give concessions as well. I will set the timeline for my return.”

Davyss pursed his lips, a hint of irritability. “Very well,” he said. “I am not entirely sure your mother will be pleased with that, but it will have to suffice for now. But I will demand it be no longer than five years, Drake. To make the Summerlin girl wait any longer is ridiculous and disrespectful to the entire contract. Am I clear?”

Drake wasn’t happy about his father’s statement but he finally nodded his head. “Very well,” he said. “No longer than five years. But you had better let me leave now before Mother gets involved and we are back where we started when you first entered this storage vault.”

Davyss’ dark eyes lingered on him. “Why?” he asked. “Were you really going to fight your brothers and me until death?”

Drake shook his head. “Nay,” he admitted. “Not with a sword, in any case. But I was fully prepared to throw punches.”

Davyss grinned. “You are much like your Uncle Hugh in that respect,” he said. “He was never afraid to throw a punch, either, and especially not at me.”

Drake gave him a half-smile, thinking on his father’s only brother, Hugh, who had died of a cancer the year before. Hugh’s death had devastated Davyss. Drake put his hand on his father’s shoulder again.

“You miss him,” he said softly.

Davyss nodded, his dark eyes growing distant as he recalled memories of his brother. “Aye,” he said. But he quickly pushed those memories away, unwilling to dwell on them. He put a big hand against Drake’s stubbled cheek. “Go, now. Out through the kitchen where she will not see you. Move quickly for the stables and do not look back. I will settle what needs to be settled here.”

Drake nodded, already heading for the spiral stairs that led up through a hatch in the kitchen floor. “My army should be well north of Leister by now,” he said. “I should be able to catch them in a week or two if I ride hard.”

Davyss followed his son as the man mounted the stairs. “I’ve already sent men with Edward on this quest,” he said. “The rebellion is heavy with Clan Maxwell and Edward wants to secure their castles near the border. They are using them to launch attacks as far south as Carlisle, or so I have been told.”

Drake nodded. “I know,” he said. “I have been told the same from my liege, de Bretagne. He is taking a good portion of the garrison at Sherborne Castle up north and I should be right along with them.”

Davyss cocked a dark eyebrow. “When do you think you will return to Norwich to swear fealty to your father instead of being thick as thieves with Cortez de Bretagne?”

Drake paused on the stairs, grinning at his father. “If I come back to Norwich, it will be Mother in command and not you,” he said. “Give me another year or two with de Bretagne before I return to my mother’s bosom. Cortez and I have a bloody good time, you know.”

Davyss chuckled, knowing that Drake and his liege were the best of friends and had been since they were young squires. It was a very strong bond. As Drake continued up the stairs, Davyss reached out to touch the man’s leg before he could get away completely.

“Take great care,” he said to his son, the conversation taking a serious turn. “I wish I could fight with you but I am not much good with it these days. Moreover, I promised your mother that I would not, so I send you with my blessings and prayers. May God watch over you, my son.”

Drake grasped his father’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “My thanks, Papa,” he said softly. “I love you very much. Tell Mother… tell her that I love her, too. I will be back, I swear it.”

Davyss simply nodded his head, letting the man flee up the stairs and disappear into the darkened hatch above. For the longest time he simply stood there, thinking on his eldest son and praying that he would again see him back at Norwich. He wished very much that he was going with him, off to fight the rebel Scots. As Drake had said, that was where the de Winters belonged. They did, indeed, but Davyss had selfishly kept his other three sons with him at Norwich, not sending them on Edward’s quest. Having sent most of his army with the king, he reasoned that he needed his knights here with him. He wished he could keep Drake with him as well, but that was not to be. In Drake’s case, it was because the man had a wandering spirit that kept him away from home most of the time. Wanderlust was a good term for the essence of Drake de Winter.

Murmuring a silent prayer for Drake’s safety, Davyss left the vault in search of what turned out to be a very upset wife and an even more upset Lord Summerlin.